like you're mine
by bluemoonfireworks
Summary: The word soulmate has orbited her mind on more than one occasion. It's a little corny, but there's no other word that comes as close to what she feels about him.


Hello! In case you didn't get the memo, I used to be **loved in shades of** **wrong**. (Changed it so I go by the same name via tumblr and ao3.)

This was written for **quisinart4** because it was her birthday a little over a week ago. It's part two of a drabble prompt but can be read as a stand alone. If you really want to read that you can find it here: archive of our own *dot* org *slash* works *slash* 1811446 *slash* chapters *slash* 3887554

I also want to make an announcement that this will be the last thing you'll see from me here. It's getting tedious posting across three different sites, and I'm choose to omit this one because of its restrictions ("unleash your imagination" my ass, example number two above) and layout. I encourage you to look for me over at ao3 and tumblr because that's where I'll continuing posting my fics. Thank you for everything that's happened here. I've met some good people and I hope that my not being here anymore won't permanently hinder my already atrocious track record of correspondence. (My last exam will be over in around fourteen-fifteen hours so expect apologies for getting back to you three months later.)

Enjoy and please leave a review and/or your thoughts :)

* * *

Oliver's grumbling as he follows Felicity into her house. It's been a long day, and she couldn't be bothered driving herself home. He shuts the front door with a little more force than necessary as she flicks on her living room lights. Paired with the muted red on her walls, the soft lighting teems Felicity with warmth, like it does every time she steps into her home. The ambiance alone soothes her shivering skin rendered vulnerable by the cold outside.

His fingers brush across her shoulders as he takes her coat off for her and places it on the hook on the wall adjacent to her front door. "I can't believe you kissed Roy," he grouses, wrestling himself out of his coat. "_Again_."

Frowning, Felicity straightens from plucking off her boots. "What do you mean again?"

Oliver crosses his arms, looking almost adorable all petulant. "Six years ago. You kissed Roy during a fraud case."

"Oh yeah," she laughs. "Good times." Then she laughs a little louder when Oliver makes his frown-y incredulous face, jerking his chin forward.

He shushes her, to which she gives a _humph_. "Did you hear something?" He takes a careful step further into her house while his arm sweeps out to push her behind him.

She bunches the back of his sweater in her fist, popping up over his shoulder to squint into the darkness of her hallway that leads to her bedroom. "What is it?" she whispers. A faint beep filters into Felicity's ears, and she gasps. "Oh, my download's finished!" She skids around him for her bedroom, where all nine seasons of _Seinfeld_ is waiting for her.

He latches onto her hand before she reaches her bedroom, and her whole body lurches back in surprise. "Felicity."

She jumps up onto her toes to peck his lips to assure him they're safe. "Are you sleeping over?"

"Yeah, but—"

"'Kay." She does let him finish, too psyched to rewatch one of her all time favourite shows, and dashes for her room again.

* * *

They've been… _together_ for a month now (and four days, but who's counting). She doesn't really know what they are, exactly; they never put a name to it after they got together. It feels a little silly calling him her boyfriend because it sounds like some high school relationship, and it feels like _so much more_ than that. They're virtually the only people who understand each other. She knows what makes him ticks as much as he's aware of all her little pet peeves (plot inconsistencies, when the tab on the tuna can _breaks off_, and why do people insist on speaking cyber slang in real life?).

They couldn't be more different. Peanut butter and jelly. But that's the thing: their differences is what makes them so amazing together sometimes. In all the many ways they clash, the more beautiful it feels when they're together. He winds down from a long night by doing push-ups; she likes to read and sneak glances at him from the bed. His dull choices of clothing brightens a little next to her bolder palette. His height makes it difficult for a quick kiss when time is pressuring them, but when her body pushes up against his, it's like they're totally connected: lips, body, heart. Sometimes he meets her half way, bending his neck down as she does up, the effort they both make to lock lips flushes her with satisfaction because they worked in collaboration for a kiss.

The word _soulmate_ has orbited her mind on more than one occasion. It's a little corny, but these years of friendship and partnership has created such a strong bond - an unwavering trust - that there's no other word that comes as close to what she feels about him.

Felicity turns the page of her book, snuggling further into her bed as Oliver appears from the bathroom. From the corner of her eye, she watches the steam disperses from the tiny room, surrounding his half-naked body like he's God's gift to her, before evaporating into the cool air. He makes his way around her bedroom, picking up the pair of socks from the chair by her dresser, and then crosses to her closet on the other side to grab a shirt he sleeps in on cold nights. She bites her lip and tries to focus back on her chapter, and before long, feels the bed shift as he crawls into bed next to her.

It's quiet for a moment, then: "I can't believe you kissed Roy."

Heaving a suffering sigh, she puts her book down and casts a slightly withering look his way. His arms are crossed over her covers as he glares straight ahead, not quite putting the fear of god into her dresser. She can see his grey sock-clad feet at the end of the bed after disarraying the blanket when she'd shuffled around to place her book on the bedside table. "It was just a natural reaction."

His eyes narrow, and he turns his whole upper body toward her. His leg props up under the comforter, creating a tent, and he leans an elbow on his hidden knee. "A natural reaction. So kissing Roy comes naturally to you."

She purses her lips and looks up into the corner of her eyes, searching for another way to word it. She spots Oliver's pair of slacks haphazardly draped over the taller dresser, and can't help the little smile that blossoms, oddly comforted by the fact. "Well, it was just a reflex—"

"Not sounding any better."

She drags her eyes back to him. "He's a very attractive—"

He makes a strangled noise from the back of his throat.

"Oliver," she bleats, exasperated. "It. Was. _Nothing_." She softens when he deflates back into the pillow a little as his leg drops, and she realises just how much that nothing kiss is bothering him. "Oliver," she says again in a comforting tone, sliding a hand up his arm to clutch the side of his neck. "Oliver…" Cupping his cheek with her other hand, she turns his head so he's looking at her and smiles at him gently. "It meant nothing."

He peers into her eyes, and she doesn't want to blink. She can practically see his brain churning as he studies her face. She smiles at him. Finally, he sighs. "Okay."

"Okay," she echoes, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He turns his head more and lets her plant one on his lips. Under the blanket, she drags a leg over his lap so she's sitting astride him and continues to place little kisses to his mouth, not lingering long enough for him to kiss her back.

He gets frustrated with her teasing kisses pretty quickly, and she tries not to smile at how completely _easy_ it is. He grips her hips and tugs her closer, craning his neck until he captures her upper lip between his teeth, and she's sucked in (literally and figuratively). He moans quietly when she scratches at his nape, pulling her closer still, and pushes his mouth to hers, so thoroughly and already so familiarly. He captures her completely, and she melts into him as he caresses her lips, her thigh, her cheek. He's hitting every single of her five senses and she loves it. "Felicity," he breathes tenderly, and her name has never tasted better. He's clutching her so resolutely she feels like she's his lifeline.

* * *

What seems like hours later, Felicity snuggles into Oliver's side. Feeling his comforting heartbeat under her hand, she yawns in warm contentment, tired from their pleasurable activities. She closes her eyes and almost feels his hands roaming all over her again; raking through her hair as he moved from between her thighs, gripping her sides when she told him she was close, licking her ear and he sighed her name as she squeezed around him. A shudder runs down her spine, and he hugs her against him tighter. She bites her lip, like she did teetering on the bridge of ecstasy, to stop herself from sighing out something akin to love.

"Is he a better kisser?" he murmurs, his finger trailing up and down her arm and eliciting goosebumps that erupt _everywhere_.

"Oliver," she complains quietly, nuzzling her nose into his cheek.

He pulls her impossibly closer and rests his lips at her forehead. She smiles and closes her eyes. "Did you like it?"

Exhaling sharply through her nose, Felicity opens her eyes and pulls her head back. "No." She frowns at him, slightly peeved that after what they just did he's still obsessing over this.

It's like he's reading her mind because he confesses in a melancholy tone, "I just don't like that he got to kiss you before I did. That he kissed you at all."

"If it makes you feel better I felt him shrivel up, both times. I'd have been offended if I didn't know how much he loves Thea." He smiles slightly at the mention of his sister, and she smiles because he is. "The kiss wasn't romantic," she continues, "it was how you'd kiss your grandmother. Kissing you is nothing like that. I kiss you like…" _like I love you_.

He waits expectantly, his finger tracing her spine, and she shivers involuntarily. "Like what?" he whispers, pulling her to lie on top of him, and their faces are so close their noses are almost touching.

She bites her lip and looks down at her hands resting against his collarbone. As her fingers outline his scar on the top of his right pec, she's reminded of her own scar when she took a bullet to the back of her shoulder. She glances at Oliver in surprise when his hand slides up and brushes across it. She brings her head down and brushes her nose against his. He smiles into her mouth as she latches onto him for a soft kiss. Finally, she murmurs, "Like you're mine."


End file.
